Volpis Praetigiae
by AA Battery
Summary: My version of season 3- so spoilers for s2: The gang recovers from its losses and a new noble arrives in Nottingham. Allan, Much, Guy, OCs!
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone!

I haven't done a long fic in a while- but this idea stole me for a while and so I figured now was a good a time as any to start one up again. This one is a bit different in that is has gasp PLOT! and gasp OCS! and gasp PLOT!

Basically, this is my version of what season 3 should be so SPOILER ALERT for season 2 it picks up a few months after season 2 ended.

In terms of my fics, it can be read after the Fire/Rain fics- basically, I surprised even myself when I didn't bring Will or Djaq back. Still, it is not devoid of my Will/Allan love- but it's more just Allan missing Will. This saddens me very much- but Will doesn't fit in this story.

Some of the characters have changed- but I hope this change is consistent with how people would actually change after season 2- if you think this is not so, let me know. But give it a chance because I like to think the differences are realistic- of course, this could just be me!

Also (as mentioned), this is my first fic which will have an abundance of OCs in it- so i am a brand new OC writer and very much trying to avoid Mary-Sues or just impossibly good people. Trying to make them all interesting- any helpful comments are welcome- pming me is fine if you so desire.

About the title- I was in a VERY strange mood when I picked it out and already it is too long to say. I will actually explain it at the end. Or if you know latin- you can already translate it.

Okay, I am done ridiculously long introduction- I will just say that I hope to update this as much as possible- but grant me some leeway as I am a tad busy.

* * *

**Volpis Praetigiae**

**Chapter 1**

A few hours ago the comment wouldn't have attracted much notice- maybe a few murmurs of agreement or argument, maybe a slight chuckle from those sitting on the scarred wooden stools, but now ale sloshed into the air as men pounded down their glasses, laughter roared through the room, and one man fell completely off his stool and stayed there because no one bothered to pick him up- even though he was the one who had made the joke. A few of the more sober patrons glanced at the corner before rolling their eyes and returning to their conversation or meal. The tavern's owner didn't even glance up from where he was talking to someone, merely waved a hand at a serving girl to bring the group more ale- wrist flapping lazily as if he didn't care whether they paid or not. Better to just keep them quiet as possible.

This was becoming one of those awful situations where he suspected his younger sister might be right.

His leg jittered uncomfortably under the table and he kept his face firmly in his tankard- not wanting to draw extra attention to himself. But needing to. Or maybe not. He chewed on his bottom him, practically panicking in indecision and uncertainty. This was stupid, he thought, fingers drumming across the table.

"Go to The King's Deer," the old man had told him earlier today, grinning toothlessly at him. "It's in Nottingham- best leave now. Go on!"

He'd almost asked "Why?" when he remembered what he had been trying to do for the previous two days and nodded, glancing around for signs that someone was watching and instead asked: "Who do I meet?"

That's when he began to think that he may have been wrong about his assumption. "Meet?" the man said, wrinkled face forming into a frown of puzzlement. The man took a step away from him as if worried the younger man was somewhat off. "You don't meet anyone- just go have a few drinks. It's a nice place for a first timer like you. If you must meet someone- meet a girl!"

And then the man had walked away, cackling and skipping, stopping a few other people on the way and talking to them. Still, he followed the old man's advice and was now sorely regretting it. He was nearly positive this had all been some kind of joke- but if he left now, his sisters would never let him live it down. He had to at least stay until tomorrow and then maybe lie… that was an even worse idea. Natalie told him he was easily the worst liar she knew.

But, as it was, he had run out of coin and even he could only nurse one drink for so long. It would seem it was another wasted night and he frowned to think that somewhere out there was an old man laughing away at him. Though he supposed he did deserve it for falling for this prank- it was just such a waste of his time.

"Silence!" The man from before shouted, managing to giggle and pull himself upright. His drunken friends actually obeyed and the man's shout was loud enough that the rest of the tavern went silent as well. He seemed to notice he had an audience so he climbed slowly up so he was standing on a chair. "Quiet, gentsies- I have an argee… arguuu… I got somethin' t'say."

More chuckles and Stephen felt himself look up- to be honest, he'd never really been around drunk people before. It was like a different world- grown men acting like… well even more foolish than young children. Or maybe if young children knew crude jokes… he was finding it somewhat amusing and somewhat revolting.

"Edward 'ere says that nobles have it- where's my drink? Wait- I needa drink," someone passed him one and he took a long swig, spilling half of it down his front, before tottering briefly and then continuing his slurred declaration: "Good. Ed says they have it……good. But I-" he paused, bending over to laugh helplessly. "I think they have a terrrrrible, terrrrible life."

There were shouts then- some roaring in agreement, more telling him to sit down and shut up. Stephen glanced towards the more sober section of the tavern- no one seemed to be taking offense at him, most either laughing or ignoring the drunken mob in the corner.

"Nah- serousily," the man continued. "Look at what they're forced to wear- it's… poofy! They jus' go prancin' round lookin' sooooo… stupid!"

"Like daisies!" another drunk man called out and the original man nodded so vigorously he fell off the chair and would have hit the ground except there was a big man underneath him who managed to keep him upright.

"Exactly," he said, leaning into his group as if he were telling a secret, though he didn't lower his voice any. "But here's the quezion… Robsin Hood… 'e was a nobler- does he still dress like a daisy?"

The owner was definitely watching now- not only the man speaking but everyone else in the bar- Robin Hood was not a name to be taken lightly these days. A quick glance told Stephen that no one seemed to be taking an extra interest in the name- hopefully no off duty guards were spending their off hours around here.

"Cause here's the thing," the man continued, oblivious to the sudden alertness of the owner. "I'm myself was thinkin' of joinin' this loyal… crew- but- but, here's the thing… the thing is- I'm not sure, positive, I could put up with tight trousers!"

The laughter really was tremendous then and even Stephen felt a chuckle burst out of him and a quick look showed most of the patrons had had similar reactions. Even the owner had a small smile playing on his lips.

"Nah- serisouly!" the man whined, frowning at the laughter. "Itsa problem!"

Someone shoved him and Stephen jumped to find the man stumbling along with the push into him. He steadied the man and tried to seem at ease when in return the man, leaned over his small table and patted him weakly on the shoulder.

"Thank you," he slurred, head dropping before coming up and meeting his eye where he blinked slowly for a moment. "That was verry nice of you. So whatdaya tink- think?"

"Uh- about what?" he asked, nervously realizing everyone was looking at him.

"About the daisies…es…" the man frowned. "Doya think Robernin wears tight clothing? Cause I dunno if I told you- but I wouldn't do that."

"I'm not sure," Stephen said, hearing laughter and feeling a blush start to work its way up his neck.

"Me neither," the man replied unhappily. "Do ya think I should jus go ask?" He made his question to the other side of the room again and started to stumble towards them but fell back again.

"Like Robin would take you!" A man answered for him and the man stood up angrily.

"I betcha 'e would take me right now! Whatda think?" This time the question was to him again and Stephen squirmed even more uncomfortably.

"Umm… you should probably sober up first," he suggested, trying to be helpful.

"Sober up!" the man cried, leaning closer to Stephen and lowering his voice so only Stephen could hear. "That'sa good idearr, young man- verrygood!"

"Or maybe I already am," the man whispered suddenly, voice devoid of any slur, eyes clear and sharply intent on Stephen's face. "You've been asking about Robin Hood. East Road, Sherwood- Tomorrow. Don't leave right away."

Stephen stared, mouth slightly open at what had just happened and then jumped when the man across from him- very drunk once more- shut it with his finger and snickered, pushing away from him and stumbling back to the corner.

"That is a smart lad, right there," he was saying as he grabbed another ale from someone and seemed to take a long swallow. "I knew a guy jusssssst like 'im once- in London I think… or maybe France…"

And then he was off- telling some drunken story that barely made sense and Stephen was left wondering if all his encounters with Robin Hood's men would be so strange.

* * *

Guy originally ignored the call for the gates to open- assuming it was either one of the sheriff's shipments coming in or his guards. Life had been slow- they'd gotten back a few weeks before the outlaws and, as Vaysey put it: "finally got some blasted things done," and then a robbery informed them that the outlaws had made it back from the Holy Land and once again things were working at their customary crawl. There was no way to tell if letters or packages actually got through Sherwood forest but it didn't matter too much as the Sheriff was still struggling to unite and organize the Black Knight. Guy was finding it difficult to care.

Marian. She was still there- everyday, small memories would rise to the surface of his thoughts- sometimes departing before he could fully realize them and just leave him with a sick sense of longing. The white hot anger that had controlled his life for two months had faded into an underlying beast that lashed out at unsuspecting times. Some days he hated her, most days he hated himself, and every day he hated Robin Hood.

But there was nothing to be done about it. Oh, kill Robin Hood- that's what could be done. But no way to do it. He had ridden into the forest, demanding a fight- but no one had answered. And whenever the outlaws broke into the castle, they were always gone before he had a proper chance at murdering the one who murdered his future. So that burning hatred resided underneath his skin and he drifted through his days feelings numb and uninterested.

So he didn't even fully register the commotion at the front gate until a guard greeting him with "Guy- we have a visitor."

He frowned for a moment- the sheriff hadn't mentioned any visitors that Guy could remember and then frowned deeper as he realized this must mean he was being kept out of the loop yet again.

He wiped his face clear of any expression as he went to greet the guest, only to have it re-appear as he walked down the castle steps and saw Nottingham's most recent addition.

The man was a noble. There was really no other way to put it. His dark hair was just the right length to be "swept," his clothes were fine and perfectly fitting, and he was young and Guy guessed that half the population of Nottingham was in love with him already. This was no old doddering fool that Guy could at least mock in his head- this was an aristocratic snob who Guy had no doubt would enjoy snickering over his mistakes with the sheriff and make sure Guy knew was a small country noble he truly was. He could only hope that he wouldn't stay long.

"Welcome to Nottingham," he greeted, attempting to flip his frown into a smile and only half succeeding. The man swung off his horse and tossed the reigns to a servant Guy only now noticed.

"Why, thank you," the man said absentmindedly, waving at guards to unload his horse. They obeyed, Guy noticed- they didn't know him and he didn't even have to speak. He strode up the steps and pulled off his gloves, tossing them over his shoulder as if knowing that his servant would catch them. He did.

"You must be Guy of Gisbourne," he offered, reaching out a hand. It was only after Guy shook it that he realized the polite thing to do was take off his gloves. He bristled- annoyed at himself for forgetting and even more so at the man for being so damned formal.

"And you are?" Guy asked, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice. Surprisingly, the man didn't seem to take any offense- just bowed slightly and answered.

"Lord Martin of… well, Elsberry is the most recent estate. London mostly," Guy nodded- the man's accent matched. From what he knew of visiting nobles- it was the London noble accent that almost everyone of any real importance had.

"You'll be wanting to see the sheriff then," Guy said, turning to lead the way.

"Perhaps a bit later," Martin replied, shrugging and Guy swung back around, surprised.

"But… won't he be expecting you?"

"No, I would be surprised if he was," the man answered, grinning at Guy's confused look. "I didn't exactly send word I was coming- too much of a bother, I find. Besides, I do love springing up on people. To my rooms please, Sir Guy."

Guy hesitated- wondering if he should just let any random man into Nottingham castle. But then again- there was no doubt this man was the epitome of noble and the sheriff would have his head if he accidentally insulted someone important. So he nodded and started leading the man through the long corridors and dark hallways of Nottingham castle.

"So, Sir Guy- what do you think of Nottingham," Martin asked as they started the walk down the hallways. Guy started a bit- at the question and at the tone, which seemed oddly sharper than before, as if the man was actually paying attention to the answer.

"It's a very nice place," Guy answered evenly.

"I see," Martin replied before dropping his voice a pitch lower and continuing. "Doubtless a few things could be changed- but all in all, a very nice place."

"Excuse me?" Guy interrupted, unsure as to whether he was being mocked or told something or meant to reply.

"Oh, forgive me," Martin apologized, waving a hand and glancing away from where he had been staring at the walls to Guy again. "I find I have the inexcusable habit of talking to myself at points. Just ignore me."

Guy nodded, shoulder shifting uncomfortably- the man said ignore him while every part of him was impossible to ignore. He oozed charm and grace and danger. Guy was relieved when they arrived at the room and started to bow his goodbye- then he started as he realized the servant from before had followed them without his notice.

"Who's he?" he asked, indicating the man who was now scurrying about the room tidying things up.

"Oh, this is Peter- personal servant," Martin replied and Guy smirked because he finally had something to wipe that confidence out of the man.

"I'm afraid you will have to be provided with a new servant," he said politely, attempting to hide his eagerness at seeing the man knocked down a peg. "We have a problem with spies- all servants in the castle are hired by the sheriff."

"Spies?" the man tutted. "That was one of those things I was mentioning earlier. But there's no need to worry about Peter- he's been with me for years."

"I have to insist," Guy informed him, smirk dropping at the casual way Martin dismissed his authority.

"He's not a spy," Martin said. "Here- Peter over here." The man obeyed cautiously, keeping his head lowered.

"Peter- you've worked for me… what… 7 years?" The servant nodded and Guy shifted impatiently.

"Are you a spy, Peter?" Martin asked and the man shook his head.

"See, Sir Guy?" Martin asked, turning back to face him completely.

"That's not-" Guy cut off as suddenly Martin twirled and punched the servant across the face, hitting the man hard enough to knock him over and following it up with a kick in the ribs. Guy blinked in shock and then Martin was smiling back at him.

"See what I mean?" Martin asked and Guy could only stare in confusion.

"The man's mute," Martin supplied and Guy now realized what had been off about the whole thing- the man had never made a sound beyond the intake of breath. "He won't be reporting anything to anyone."

"Tongue cut out?" Guy asked, unsure whether to be horrified or impressed.

"Birth defect- I think he's a bit slow too- but he knows how I like things so I keep him around. That alright?"

Guy hesitated and then shrugged- there was no chance of him being a spy and there was something possessive and dangerous lurking in Martin's eyes. Something he didn't feel like letting loose on himself.

"If the sheriff has no objections," he conceded.

"He won't," Martin assured him, grinning confidence back. "Well, would you mind picking me up again in an hour or so? I do have to meet up with Sheriff Vaysey and I believe I'd be terribly lost in this castle."

"My pleasure," Guy answered, bowing slightly. Then he pulled the door close and hovered for a moment, pondering what he had seen. Through the door he heard:

"Well, don't just stand there- I want a bath drawn. And then maybe some food. Clean up the blood before it dries and make sure that doesn't swell- you'll look terrible."

And that's when he decided he should leave.

* * *

Allan moaned upon seeing Much enter the camp alone.

"Oh- you've got to be kidding me!" he groaned. "You did not reject that one too. I mean, honestly- do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be drunk night after night after night just to whisper two words to some random person! Not bein' funny- but I'm not going again. I refuse."

"Oh, shut up," Much said, swinging into the camp and giving his goose a customary pat on the head. "I highly doubt it's that much work for you."

"It is!" Allan insisted, rolling over in his bunk so he was facing away from Much. "It's extremely rough acting so drunk! And I'm tired! And I want to actually drink next time I go out!"

"Well, you can," Much told him, unbuckling his sword.

"You mean… you picked him? He passed?"

"Yup," Much replied and grinned at Allan's triumphant whoop. Life had been different at the camp and while Much missed Djaq and Will and Robin- he couldn't say that he might be somewhat happier in this arrangement.

The first few months after the Holy Land had been bleak- everyone dealing with their own losses. Robin loosing Marian, Allan loosing Will, and Much loosing Robin- for while the leader was still physically there, he was more absent than he had ever been. Gradually though, it was realized they were still together- or at least Much and Allan had, and Much was surprised at how close he and the poacher had become.

At first it had just been realizing the other shared the same pain- a kind of empathy that drew them together. And then both had realized there was work to be done and they set about to doing it. Together. As equals.

It was decided late one night after a rough battle, that the gang simply couldn't be only 4 people. It was too hard to do drop offs, too dangerous to do battle, too thin to implement any proper plans. They simply didn't know enough anymore- and as their outreach spread to include more surrounding villages, they realized they didn't have time to keep constant tabs on Nottingham and the sheriff.

"Organization," Allan had said one night when he and Much were out hunting. "We need a network or else we just won't be able to catch everything."

And so Allan had set about to getting it done. Carefully and slowly. Having once betrayed the gang, Allan was now almost fanatical in how close he checked all his contacts out. Much didn't know the details or how Allan, once on Guy's side, managed to convince people to talk only to him- but gradually more and more connections were being made and more and more tips were flowing in.

Eventually, it was also decided that they did need a few more actual gang members and Much was surprised to see that process handed over to him. Allan screened the people and made contact with them, and Much went out and met them and made sure they "were the right fit." And so the new dynamic of the gang was created: Allan in charge of "the network," Much in charge of the camp. Robin still did all their tactical maneuvers and made the big decisions- but he didn't seem to care about the day to day running of anything else. Maybe he didn't care about anything else at all.

"Well then where is he?" Allan asked, rolling back over and glancing around the camp.

"We have to go pick him up tomorrow," Much told him.

"Pick him up?" Allan mumbled, starting to fall back asleep. Much winced a little- he had a feeling Allan wasn't going to like this.

"At his house. He had to say goodbye to his family first. And apparently they want to meet us."

"What?" Allan cried, sitting up in his bed. "He has a family? We have to meet them?"

"I know it's weird," Much said, trying to calm Allan down. "But he's young- he can't just run off."

"Then what's he joining the gang for?!" Much could almost see Allan running down his contacts and deciding who should have told him this information.

"He says he believes it's the right thing to do. His farm is running fine without him. Feels useless there."

"Martha," Allan growled. "She would have known about this."

"She probably knew you'd react like this," Much said mildly.

"Well, yeah!" Allan said, getting out of bed. "It's completely ridiculous- dragging a kid away from his home!"

Much shrugged and Allan grabbed a handful of seeds from the bag they kept.

"Wait a minute," Allan said, spinning around and sending seeds leaking out of his fist. "Why on earth did you let him join!?"

"He deserves a chance, Allan," Much said as he watched Allan drop the seeds in with the pigeon. He finally said what they both knew. "And we need a carpenter- the traps are falling apart and the camp needs some work."

Allan stared at the pigeon a while longer, watching it eat the seed that Allan gave it faithfully every morning and night. Much could almost sense the thought flying through his head: _We could always bring back Will._ Much didn't say anything, just waited until Allan turned around, not quite able to pull off a smile.

"You're crazy," Allan told him but didn't question his say in the matter and Much smiled his thanks.

"You going back to bed?" Much asked, aware that Allan didn't get in until early this morning. The man was devoted to his network- sometimes Much had to step in to get him to rest properly. It was almost like what he did for Robin, except Allan forced him back into bed when he needed it as well. Much felt he meant something to the gang other than mother now- and though he missed the old days with him and Robin more than he let himself think about, the newfound partnership was something he cherished.

"Nah," Allan said and faded off and Much knew it was partly in thanks to the mention of Will. You didn't think about how things were- but moments still snuck up on you, Much knew, and they took some recovering from. Much only hoped that having a new carpenter around wouldn't be a constant reminder to Allan of who was not here.

"I've got some people I need to see- check out this family too if we're gonna go over there," Allan began again abruptly and Much would have told him to get some rest first except he didn't have the heart. So he nodded silently and Allan nodded his thanks.

"John and Robernin are hunting," Allan told him.

"Be back before dinner," Much replied and Allan nodded- not in a mocking way that made Much feel stupid, but in a way that showed respect for the care Much took in feeding everyone and gratitude for Much having it ready.

Allan started walking away before Much stopped him.

"Robernin?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"New one I made up last night," Allan supplied without turning, waving a hand in the air. "I rather like it."

The camp was different, and still oddly empty at times- but they were doing more than just getting by- they were healing. Slowly and probably never completely- but the outlaws were recovering and Much thought that was the thing that mattered.

End Chapter 1.

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey- sorry this took so long! Life got a little busy! Hope to get the next one up soon- but no promises (haha- sorry!)

**Volpis Praetigiae**

**Chapter 2**

"You are worse then my late wife," Robert muttered, glaring at the man as he approached. He saw the man's face and he quickly held up a hand. "My late wife who died 10 years ago under Robin's rule by completely natural causes!"

His unwanted visitor merely grinned at him and Robert rolled his eyes.

"You already knew that, didn't you?" An insolent shrug had Robert turning to walk away. "Allan, you've been to see me… what? 8 times? I think by now you should understand my simple answer: No!"

"I would understand it if that was really your answer," Allan replied, speeding up so he was next to the older man.

"It is my answer!" Robert retorted, throwing his hands up in the air. Allan had approached him almost a month ago, asking him to join Robin Hood's gang and hadn't stopped bothering him since. "I don't know why you think it's not."

"You don't mean it," he replied and Robert thought he might actually hit the man this time. Of course, he said that every time and never quite had the heart to do it- but this was getting ridiculous.

"I'm a farmer," he began to explain again.

"You don't have a farm," Allan cut in. "It was taken away by Vaysey and Guy and their high taxes."

"Taxes that I could help fight," Robert intoned, used to Allan's usual spiel. That insufferable grin came back as if just by saying it, Robert was agreeing. Robert walked in determined silence for a while, hoping that if he just didn't say anything Allan would leave.

No such luck- as Robert suspected there wouldn't be. Allan was nothing if not persistent and for reasons unknown to Robert himself, Allan had decided Robert would be perfect for the gang. That was the question he always asked and Allan usually played dumb or gave him some even more annoying "Join and find out," message. Still, no use straying from the formula.

"Allan- there are plenty of people who would gladly join up with you bunch of ruffians. Why do you insist on annoying me twice a week?"

"You're the only one shorter than me."

Robert did stop and take a swipe at the younger man then, who chuckled and danced easily out of its way. The older man grunted irritably and continued walking, Allan beside him just out of reach.

"You had a reputation," Allan said suddenly and Robert glanced over, surprised. The con actually sounded a bit serious and Robert raised an eyebrow to indicate he was listening. "You would try to heal your animals rather than just kill them for meat."

"Well, yeah," Robert said, shrugging. "Could never really afford to do anything else. Seemed like a waste when some just needed a few stitches and they would breed again."

"We need a doctor," Allan told him and then stopped when Robert stopped.

"A doctor?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice- this was too crazy for that. "Look, son, I may have kept some animals alive but there's no way I'm qualified to stitch up people."

"You're the most qualified we could find," Allan told simply and that honesty is what made Robert actually look at the young trickster carefully. His annoying guest was staring at him with brutal truth and Robert found himself forced to think of what happened when one of Robin's men got hurt- did they have supplies to wrap up a wound? How often did they get hurt? What were they sleeping under out there anyway?

He cursed himself as he sensed his thoughts take him in an unwanted direction- this was stupid. He wasn't playing into Allan's hands just because the man was telling him the gang honestly needed him. He was too old for this! Heroics were for the young and naïve- he had… well he had a farm to get back eventually and until then he was content finding the odd job and getting by. He was not going to go gallivanting through the woods where he'd most likely be bossed around by a bunch of young upstarts like the one before him. There were better doctors out there- like the one in Nottingham!... who worked for Vaysey. This was stupid.

"I'm a farmer," he said aloud and to his surprise Allan nodded at him. He huffed and hesitated and glared at the subtle shift in Allan's posture.

"I'm only staying until I've got enough to buy my farm back."

"We don't get paid," Allan told him and Robert snorted.

"Well you're paying me! I need my farm back- I'm too old for this sort of thing anyway."

"You're not too old- you just want to be," Allan informed him and Robert growled and turned to walk away.

"You don't want a farm too badly?" and it was half a demand, half a question and when Robert looked back, there was a deadly quiet in Allan's face. Robert puffed up- indignant and stalked back up to stand directly in front of Allan.

"Now look here, young man," he started hotly. "If you think I'd-"

"Just checking," Allan interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him, easy grin back on his face. "No need to get all red in the face. See you tomorrow."

"Monday," Robert told him, daring him to demand anything different and Allan nodded and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Robert called and Allan spun back around. "Where do I find you?"

"Just walk into Sherwood, doc," Allan said and Robert was left to mutter about disrespectful, cocky, insufferable youngsters.

* * *

"And that way is…?" The man trailed off, peering down the hallway and Guy bit his lip in an effort to keep from snapping, glad the man wasn't looking in his direction.

"The kitchens, Lord Martin," he ground out. He had picked up Nottingham's newest arrival on time, had mentioned him to the sheriff- who was no doubt expecting them and then Martin decided that now was the perfect time for a tour of the castle- all of it. Guy told himself that it the man tried to get a tour of the town, he would simply punch him and tell Vaysey there had been some mistake.

"You got that, Peter?" Martin threw over his shoulder, voice sharp as if the man was deaf instead of mute. Peter nodded meekly from where he was walking behind and Martin turned to Guy once more.

"I often find that a late night snack is just the trick for a good nights sleep, don't you? I trust the kitchen staff is available at all hours?"

Guy nodded- the Sheriff seemed to share the same theory on eating thankfully, so no changes would have to be made. The man peered down the hallway a little longer- apparently thinking about something (which he seemed to do often) before turning back to Guy with a smile that could only be described as radiant.

"Well, to Sheriff Vaysey now, Sir Guy. Thank you so much for taking me around- it has been most kind of you."

"Anytime," Guy forced out of his mouth, whipping around to lead the man in the opposite direction before he could see if his words caused offense. At this point- almost an hour after he told Vaysey he was going to get the man- he didn't care if Lord Martin despised him with a burning passion. Maybe it would at least make the noble leave him alone.

But if Martin took offense, he didn't say anything- Guy just saw him wave a hand and felt more than saw Peter disappear- doubtless back to the rooms to clean up. Then, in a surprising shift of character that made Guy mildly uncomfortable, he was silent for the rest of the trip to the great hall and when Guy glanced over he looked positively pensive and calculating. Guy shifted and tried to ignore him.

Vaysey was annoyed that they were that late- Guy could tell from the way his foot was bouncing up and down as they entered the Great Hall.

"Well, hello!" Vaysey crooned from the corner- he didn't know enough about their recent guest to risk mocking him quite yet. "I was expecting you a while ago- did Guy get lost?" Guy inwardly rolled his eyes and stiffened- two seconds into formal introductions and he was already being made to look a fool.

"He does tend to do that sometimes," Vaysey continued, indicating for the man to sit. Guy opened his mouth to protest when Martin beat him to it.

"I'm afraid you're incorrect," the noble had interrupted, sitting down as if he owned the table and leaving Vaysey scrambling for a seat. "I asked for a tour of the castle and Sir Guy has been most effective."

"Oh," Vaysey said, looking crestfallen that his usual pastime had been taken from him. He looked up to Guy and sneered at him as if Martin's defense was somehow his fault. "Well- I'm glad he could help."

"As am I," Martin said and Guy couldn't figure out if he was being a snob or downright hostile. It certainly wasn't how he pictured this meeting to go. The charm and flattery that characterized Martin in Guy's mind was not lacking- it was simply not directed at Vaysey. Which was odd because Guy knew the sheriff would have enjoyed oozing it right back.

"I'm Lord Martin of Elsberry," Martin informed Vaysey. "Just passing through England and I had heard that Nottingham was truly a sight to behold, so I hoped I might stay here for a while?"

He made it the barest hint of a question and Guy realized the grace was back now that Guy himself was no longer the subject of conversation.

"Of course," Vaysey replied, nodding. "You're more than welcome." A beat. "I've never heard of Elsberry- is it far?"

"Up by London," Martin answered, taking a sip of wine. "I usually entertain myself at court- the company is fascinating."

"Yes, yes," Vaysey agreed and Guy could almost see a calculating light spring into his eyes as the mention of the court in London. It was run by Prince John now. "I'm sure you met some wonderful people."

"Some of the ladies I think could be described as that, yes," Martin said, wicked gleam in his eyes and smirk on his face. Vaysey returned it, though Guy could tell he was disappointed in the answer and regarding the man with more suspicion.

"We have a mutual friend up in London," Martin told Vaysey frankly and Guy could see the old man reel at the sudden change. The sheriff enjoyed subtlety as it was called for and frankness as it pleased him and he didn't enjoy someone else setting the tone.

"I've never heard of you," Vaysey replied, somewhat accusingly. Guy stared- he never remembered the sheriff jumping on someone so quickly before- maybe it wasn't only Guy who was made uncomfortable by that smooth charisma and danger. "You'd think if we were in the same circle, I would have."

Martin chuckled then and rolled his eyes. "Let's be frank, shall we?" he asked and this time it wasn't a question. "You know just as well as I do that our friend loves his secrets. Collects them and keeps them from each other just for the fun of it, I suspect. Now, I would be most concerned if you had heard of me- but seeing that- as expected- you have not, I will just tell you- I am one of those secrets."

Martin's words had hardened into something deadly at the last words and Vaysey fumbled for a moment- caught between pride, suspicion and what Guy could guess was a sudden unease that he had offended someone important.

"I see," Vaysey finally muttered, unhappy but accepting.

"Now don't mind me," Martin announced, standing, friendly grin back in place, eyes losing most of their seriousness. "I just need to wait for a few things to arrive before continuing onward. I won't be in your way."

"Oh," Vaysay said, standing as well. Guy could see him teeming with questions- waiting for what? going where? why?- but Martin didn't really seem open to questioning.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," the noble said, bowing in an almost frivolous manner. "Guy, I believe I can find my way back myself. Thank you very much for your assistance."

"You're welcome," Guy replied, jerking his head into a nod. Martin returned it and then swept out of the room. Guy found himself staring after the man and then caught himself and turned to Vaysey who was glaring at the closing door. Finally, Vaysey focused on Guy and shook his head.

"I don't like him," Vaysey told him. And it was a testament to how unsettled he was that he didn't mock Guy any further before striding out of the room.

* * *

"Well this is it, lads," Robin said as they sat down for dinner and Allan's head snapped up just a bit slower than Much's. Robin joining into conversations was a rare event, Robin _starting_ conversations was all but unheard of. Allan glanced over at John, who seemed just as surprised and then his eyes found their way to Much who still looked a little dazed.

"This is what?" Allan asked, clearing his throat a little and hoping Robin didn't notice the stunned silence that followed his words. Luckily, their leader was still in the midst of serving himself some stew so he missed the stares.

"The last night of just us," Robin said, gesturing with the spoon around the forest, smiling it a way that said this should have been obvious.

"Oh," Much finally croaked out and Allan suddenly found Much's reaction to this much more important than Robin. The shock that had once shown on his face was rapidly diminishing to something akin to joy and Allan felt his heart go out to the man, for these little flashes of life from Robin never lasted long.

"Yeah, guess you're right," Allan offered, sneaking a glance over to John who gave him the barest of shrugs and returned his gaze to his food. Allan found it hard not to be a little short with the bigger man- who had returned from the Holy Land more depressed somehow. Just because they all knew Robin would quickly descend back into his silent sadness didn't mean they all- well Much, namely- couldn't enjoy him while he was around.

"Remember when we started?" Allan continued, throwing a grin over to Robin, inviting the man to recall better times.

"We hadn't even gotten two feet into Sherwood and already you were getting us into trouble, master," Much added.

"Well- Allan would be down a finger otherwise!" Robin protested through a mouthful of food. "And I believe it was you who managed to tell the guard there was only two of us!"

"Ah, I would have escaped without your help anyway," Allan interjected. "Just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"I suppose you would have gotten out of the hanging eventually too?" Robin asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Just wanted to see if you were really that good with a bow," Allan explained before taking another bite.

"That's actually why I got captured as well," Much added helpfully. "See if that old sword toss was still any good."

"Well I'm glad I didn't disappoint- would hate to see the reputation tarnished."

"That came a bit later," Allan conceded.

"What? When?"

"I think being captured and robbed was a pretty big stain," John finally supplied.

"You're a pretty big man," Robin countered. "And I was out even before Will got back."

Allan ignored the mention of Will as much as he was able. It brought the customary jumble of feelings as it always did- the longing and loneliness and fear and hurt- but he had to ignore those for right now. Robin joking was too rare an event for it to be ruined by the mention of someone who had been gone for months. Still, when he looked up from his food (which he never remembered looking down at), Much's concerned eyes were on him and at least the loneliness was- if not completely gone- tampered down a bit. He jerked his head and Much's eyes flew back to Robin, who was still claiming that being captured was part of his plan all along.

"And then there was Much and that dog," Allan re-entered the conversation.

"More like a wolf," Much muttered in response and then what remained of the gang was off- re-telling past exploits while desperately trying to cover up previous mistakes. For Robin's sake as much as his, the conversation stopped well before Marian's "wedding" with Guy, and thus before Allan's betrayal.

"It sure is going to be different," Much finally concluded, almost wistfully and Allan felt his head nod in agreement. Different. Not just because two new people would be around- but because it was almost as if they were acknowledging that three other people would not be coming back. And it was for that state of completeness and unity that all of them longed for.

"We got two new people coming in?" Robin asked and the tone told Allan it was time to report in, as Robin requested every once and a while.

"Yeah," Allan nodded. "One young kid who has some carpentry experience from outside of Clun and an older guy who's staying in Nottingham since his farm was taken away."

"We have to pick up Stephen- the carpenter- tomorrow," Much added.

"And Robert's comin' in Monday."

"Are we going to be adding any more people?" Robin questioned. "Or should that be enough."

"I think that's good for actual members," Allan answered him, pausing to think. "We need a few more sources in Nottingham and a few other small towns. Oh, and we need a source inside the castle."

"Do we have any ideas for that?"

"Oh, a few- some a little overeager though. I think Mary's still our best bet."

"She'll be hard to get to," Robin noted. "A cook's helper might be easier access."

"Too little information," Allan dismissed, with a wave of his hand. "Mary can do it- just a matter of getting to her and getting the information from her to us."

"And convincing her," John added.

"Well that too- but it shouldn't be a problem- she loves me," Allan grinned and Robin rolled his eyes.

"Well, let me know what that's up," he ordered, turning to go to his bunk. "We need information badly. No telling what Vaysey is up too. Or Guy."

By the time he said "Guy," he was facing the wall in his bunk but Allan didn't need to see his face to know that it had gone cold and hard with rage and regret. Much sighed softly from next to him and Allan frowned and didn't bother to answer their leader. John didn't acknowledge the change, simply put down his bowl, thanked Much stiffly and went to bed. Much stared into his own bowl for a little while before slurping the rest of it down.

"I'll wash up today, Much," Allan offered and reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder when Much looked over at him with tired, resigned eyes. Allan wanted to tell him that one day Robin might stop grieving; one day their leader would be back; one day things would be how they were- but you didn't speak things you couldn't promise and so he stayed silent.

"Thanks, Allan," Much told him with a small smile and as Allan grabbed the bowls and headed to the stream, he figured that maybe just wanting to say it was enough sometimes.

The knock on Guy's door made him jump a little and reach for his sword, considering it was late at night by his judgment- and who the hell needed him right now? He opened the door slowly and barely bit back a groan when he saw who it was.

"Can I help you, Lord Martin?" he asked, opening the door a bit wider.

"Certainly, Sir Guy," the man replied, waving something in his face which Guy realized was a bottle of wine. Martin then simply pushed into the room as if he owned it, looking around, and Guy's mouth twisted even further.

"I don't think I need wine at this hour," he snapped. Martin spun around, grinning for a moment and then it slide into something sly and serious.

"Of course not," he nodded, grabbing a glass and pouring wine into it. He offered it to Guy and Guy felt himself tense up. "What you need is something much more valuable."

"What's that?"

"Friends."

End Chapter 2.

Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long! Life got crazy on me! I hope those of you who are still reading this will continue to enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned it the barn scene would have never happened. Ever.

* * *

**Volpis Praetigiae**

**Chapter 3**

There was a pause in which Guy sincerely wished he was better at this kind of thing. Instead the only thing he could think of to do was to raise an eyebrow, turn and say:

"Friends?"

The slightly mocking chuckle was expected, as was the calculating gaze, but the light of openness in the man's eyes was something new. Guy almost shrunk back, used to the sheriff moving closer whenever he got in this mood, but after a moment, Martin took a step away and indicated a chair:

"How about we sit down, Sir Guy?" It wasn't really a question. For a moment, Guy considered standing but… his curiosity flared up as it hadn't in months and so he sat down. Martin grinned but it was not unkind and sat across from him. Then the noble drank and looked at him, sighing.

"Look, let's be honest with each other," Martin opened. He grinned again. "After all, that's what friends do. Tell the truth." Guy risked a nod.

"Would you say Vaysey has done a good job? Here? With Nottingham?"

"Uh-" Guy started, and hesitated, but Martin cut him off.

"You're loyal to him- Good. Loyalty is always good. I'll answer my own question then: No." Martin stood as if he was too angry to sit and strode along the wall of the room. "Vaysey has not done a good job here. He's failed to organize the Black Knights, he went gallivanting off to the Holy Land because he can't even handle some pesky outlaw! I recommended him to this position myself and been made to look a fool!"

He took a breath and seemed to calm down, though the wildness was still in his eyes. "Vaysey won't be around for much longer, I've been saying this for a while and John agrees with me. It's just a matter of time."

He sat back down and leaned forward. "So the issue then becomes this: Who takes his place? Do we bring in someone completely knew and have to train him and explain the situation and question his loyalty?" He rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking almost comic.

"Or," he drawled slowly and there was nothing funny about him now. "Or do we just… bump someone already here up a position. What do you think?"

"Uh," This was happening too quickly for Guy to process. Vaysey out? It just didn't make sense… Or did it? Suddenly all the things Martin was talking about started to make more sense. Guy had always thought the way Vaysey handled Hood was too… showy. It was always about grand schemes or stupid snake pits and not about getting the job done. Hood should've- _could've_ been handled months ago. He would've done it.

Still… it was Vaysey. The man he had fought for, killed for, _died_ for. He had killed Marion instead of Vaysey, given up all hope of redemption for Vaysey. He hated the man, yes, hated and feared him but he was still loyal. It was all he had left.

"Look," Martin suddenly broke into his thoughts and Guy worried the man must've seen something of his struggle in his eyes. The noble sat down again, took a sip of wine and was suddenly relaxed, molding into his chair as if it were made for him. "Don't worry too much, Sir Guy, it was a rhetorical question. Just the babblings of a man with a terrible habit of talking too much."

Guy nodded- or maybe he grunted- but he didn't say anything. It was hard to be comfortable around this man. He was too controlled, too smooth, too quick to change moods.

The man continued to talk- about his estate and the court and other random bits of nothing. Guy found it easy to mostly ignore him and ponder the questions put in front of him. He had the annoying suspicion that Martin knew Guy wasn't listening- chuckling at his own jokes but not waiting for Guy to add anything to the conversation. Finally, he took a last swig of wine and rose to leave. Guy rose as well and moved to shake the man's hand. Guy didn't trust him- but it couldn't hurt to have him on his side. Or for him to think Guy was on his.

"I would ask that you ponder one more thing for me," Martin said, handing his empty cup to Guy and giving his head a toss so that his hair fell perfectly out of his face. "It seems to me that you have sacrificed everything. The question then lies in what you have sacrificed it for: the Sheriff of Nottingham or the Rightful King of England? Do not confuse one with the other, Sir Guy, they are quickly becoming increasingly contradictory."

With a cordial bow and one last knowing smile, Lord Martin exited the room. Guy remained standing and thinking for a long time after he left.

* * *

"This is a terrible idea," Allan muttered and Much couldn't help but grin. Allan was _whining_- a constant, pouty, dark string of words and curses that could only be called comical.

"We're going to die you know. Be attacked. Get killed."

"I highly doubt that," Much said, holding back a branch so it didn't hit the trailing man in the face.

"Oh, don't doubt, Muchlyn," Allan admonished. "We're going to die. Horribly. Painfully. Probably with nails or something. Fire. Blunt instruments."

"Did you meet this kid?" Much asked over his shoulder. "He's more innocent than a newborn. There's no way he was raised by murderers."

"Probably faking," Allan grumbled. "I'm too young to die."

"You didn't have to come. I told you I could've taken John."

"Too trusting," Allan insisted. "He wouldn't have watched your back properly."

"Glad to know you care so much about me," Much said, grinning.

"Don't! But who else is going to feed me. Don't want to starve myself!" Much nodded- he was beyond rising to Allan's friendly bait. Especially when he could tell that the man's constant complaints were hiding the fact that he really was a bit nervous. He started humming to himself. Allan remained silent for a moment before:

"Families are unnatural, you know."

"Lots of people have families, Allan."

"Not normal people."

"Yes they do."

"Do you know any normal person who had a family?" Much glanced back at Allan before deciding it was safe enough to bring up.

"Will had one." Allan shrugged dismissively.

"Not normal. Who wants to live in a desert?"

"You have a point," Much agreed because bringing up Will at times was acceptable, but bringing up Will's relationship with Djaq was not. Allan would go quiet and angry and… hurt.

"We're gonna die."

"He mentioned sisters."

"Raped and then killed."

* * *

Andrew risked a glance over at his wife. She was glaring at him. She had been glaring at him for the better part of a week. It was getting a bit eerie.

"Look, dear," he started again. "He's growing up. He deserves to make his own decisions."

"Even if his decisions are going to get him killed!" Her voice took on that shrill tone it always did when she was battling between anger and worry.

"He's not going to get killed," he said, risking reaching out a hand and touching her on the shoulder.

"Oh, how do you know that!" she cried, slapping his hand away. "He can't fight! Robin Hood is always getting into fights! With trained guards!"

"I'm sure it's not that often."

"Carol told me!"

"Your sister doesn't even live in Nottingham! How would she know?"

"She has friends there," Amanda insisted.

"Mandy," he tried again, taking a step closer. "He's not going to get into trouble." His wife spun to look at him angrily.

"Oh, how would you know?"

"Amanda," he said, adding a touch of authority into his voice. "His mind is made up. He's going." He saw her balk a little and tried to keep the fear from his voice. He was only allowed to pull any sort of authority on very rare issues. If she decided to go "sarcastic, sadistic, angry wife" on him he was in for a miserable few weeks. Oh, God, his daughters would probably join her. What was he thinking? Allowing her to have more children…

"Well, fine!" she snapped, spinning back around to where she was packing some food for Stephen to take with him. "But if he dies, I'm digging him back up and killing him again. And throwing Robin Hood in there for good measure!" She stalked out of the small kitchen and he breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her out. She was on his side.

His daughters were also glaring at him as he entered the main room. Luckily, once Mandy made up her mind, it stayed made up.

"You look like idiots," she informed her daughters, ignoring the fact that she had worn the same expression just a few moments ago. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Stephen get ready?"

Stephen himself chose that moment to enter, holding a bag over his shoulder and smiling sheepishly. Mandy's face softened immediately and she practically pounced on the boy.

"Do you have everything you need? Did you remember clean socks?"

"I got it, Mum," Stephen said. "Everything's in there. Elizabeth checked already."

Elizabeth, Andrew's youngest daughter, nodded. Amanda tutted.

"Well, when are they supposed to be here?" Stephen glanced around and shrugged.

"Any minute I think."

"They're probably late," Katherine- the middle child- said, voice dripping with disapproval.

"Well, it's a far way to walk," Stephen said peaceably.

"Not far enough that you can't visit," Amanda said warningly. Stephen hurriedly nodded.

"Whenever I have time."

Andrew watched as his son carefully hugged each of his sisters, yelping as Katherine stomped on his foot. His son had always been a quiet kid, content to watch or be told what to do. Katherine, and later Elizabeth, had gleefully taken full advantage of that. Stephen had spent most of his childhood carrying his younger sisters through the house or getting his hair braided when it was long enough. Andrew suspected that was the reason he was so careful to keep it shorter now.

Andrew did have his own worries about sending his only boy off to fight when a crew of outlaws. These men were doubtless rougher than Stephen was used to. Heck, just the fact that they were men made them completely different. He had no doubt that his son would be bullied and corrupted. He could only hope that he was bullied by the right people and corrupted to a proper extent. After all, he couldn't very well say "no" to the idea. It was the first time Stephen had showed an interest in something _he_ wanted to do aside from carpentry and Andrew wasn't about to stifle him at home. No matter what pain his remaining female household gave him for it.

A careful knock at the door stopped his thoughts and though everyone quickly put polite smiles on- except for Katherine- Andrew knew that only a complete idiot would think that all was perfectly well.

The men were not complete idiots. The shorter one with light brown hair was carefully standing a few feet back from the door, while subtly shifting his weight from one foot to another. When his eyes risked a glance up and saw Amanda who had given up on looking polite and now looked entirely judgmental, he shifted back even more. The second, snatched his hat off his head faster than Andrew would have thought possible, revealing reddish-blondish hair, took a breath before announcing.

"Hello," it was uncertain and tingled with nerves but Andrew really couldn't blame him. He sounded the same way when he first met his wife. The fact that there were two mirror images of his wife sitting behind her probably didn't help. "I'm Much." He glanced at the other man before realizing that his friend was not going to say anything. "This is Allan. We're just here to pick up Stephen."

"Of course," Mandy announced. "Would you like to come in?" It would have sounded friendly if her smile didn't show quite so many teeth. Andrew tried to keep an amused smile from coming to his face. Much thanked her and the two moved to come in, the second- Allan- for the first time showing something other than meek terror, as he suspiciously drifted his hand towards his sword. He entered first, cautiously scanning the room before glancing back at Much who then followed with an almost imperceptible roll of the eyes. Allan flashed the quickest half-grin Andrew had ever seen. A smile of his own refused to be suppressed any longer. He wondered idly if Mandy even noticed the interaction. She probably didn't but he would tell her later that no one was sneaking up on Allan any time soon.

"This is my daughter, Katherine," his wife was saying. "And this is Elizabeth." Much made an effort to nod and smile, Allan again kept his eyes firmly on anything else. There was an awkward silence.

"And I'm Andrew, the father," Andrew said, reaching forward to shake their hands. He had a lot of respect for Robin Hood- and his men. Much smiled back at him- a shred of relief in his eyes as he found someone who wasn't subconsciously glaring at him. Allan, though he had shrunk back at Andrew's initial movement, shook his hand as well, blue eyes flashing to his face for the briefest instant.

"This is a lovely home you have," Much offered. Allan nodded in agreement.

"Not lovely enough to keep Stephen here," Amanda said, a hint of anger lacing her voice. Stephen blushed.

"Mum," he muttered.

"Do you have everything you need?" Andrew asked Stephen, though he already knew the answer.

"Yup," Stephen replied.

"Great," Much replied. "We'll just be off then."

"Is there a way to contact Stephen if we need him?" Both men looked honestly stumped for a moment, as if wondering why they would ever need to do that. Amanda pressed on, adding a note of "you're being ridiculous and stupid" to her voice. "In case of a family emergency…"

"Uh-" Much said, blinking. "Right. That would be… important. Allan?" Allan jumped at the sound of his name and then glared at Much before looking back to the condescendingly patient woman in front of him. Then he frowned to himself and looked around again and Andrew for the first time though he might be more than a very jumpy sidekick. The man's gaze turned almost calculating as he deliberated something over.

"Do you know Anne Stocken down in Knighton?" Allan spoke for the first time, thick accent filling the room. Amanda nodded and he continued. "Good. Tell her you need an extra batch of apples for Katherine's birthday. She'll get me the message."

"But there is no message in that," Amanda said, raising an eyebrow. To Andrew's surprise, Allan finally met her gaze head on.

"Security is tight," he told her. "Stephen will come over as soon as I get just that message." She nodded but didn't look very impressed with his display of backbone and he quickly looked away.

After a final round of hugs and well wishes, Stephen gave his family a last smile and then walked out with the two men. Elizabeth and Katherine began discussing the better qualities of the two men and Mandy glared at him for all of one second before giving in and pressing her face against his chest. Andrew held his wife and hoped for all their sakes that he had made the right decision.

* * *

"I was right!" Allan declared as soon as they were out of earshot of the house. "Bloody terrifying."

"You didn't say a word the whole time practically!" Much said, chuckling.

"Woman was ready to kill us. She might come back and kill us anyway." Allan made a show of glancing over his shoulder. Much smiled at the newest member of the gang.

"Doesn't mean any disrespect by it," he said, not wanting Stephen to think they were mocking his mother. "He just gets all in a tizzy when he's scared."

"Was not scared!" Allan insisted. But Stephen was giving Much the smallest smile and seemed to agree with him.

"She scares me too," he admitted. "You should see when her and all my sisters gang up."

"Don't know how you lived with it," Allan replied, shaking his head. "I thought my father was bad- but she was the most terrifying person I've ever met!"

Much was relieved to see that Stephen just chuckled and nodded along, seemingly unaware of the offense other men might take from such comments.

"So," he interrupted Allan's rant. "About the gang. Robin's the leader. Obviously. In charge of tactical stuff and the like. If he tells you to do something, you do it. In battle, no questions asked." Stephen nodded seriously. "John you've probably heard of- big man. I would do what he says too just because… well… he's huge. Not one to talk much though so don't get offended if he doesn't say anything." Another nod from Stephen who Much noted way hanging on his every word.

"And Allan here is in charge of our network of contacts and such. Spies in Vaysey's camp and such. Basically, don't talk to anyone about anything without clearing it with him first!" Stephen nodded.

"And finally," Much jumped as Allan started speaking. He didn't think he had forgotten anything. "Much is in charge of the camp- food, warmth, basic survival needs. Without him we all starve to death: keeps the whole operation running!" Stephen was looking at Much with a new found respect and Much felt a glow of pride and gratitude in the pit of his stomach. He looked over to thank Allan with his eyes but Allan wasn't looking at him. Instead he was off, talking about which traps he thought should be fixed up first and different ideas he had. Much smiled to himself and jumped in when Allan took a breath- they needed new bowls as soon as possible.

"Oh! Almost forgot," Allan said when Much finished. "The goose. Do not piss off the goose. It's evil. Truly, deeply evil."

End Chapter 3.

* * *

hope you enjoyed it! reviews or comments are always welcome!


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